When a Boy Met a Girl
by we'reonfire
Summary: So, at the end of this story, there was a head. A blonde one to be exact, running through the field of corn. He must have been less than 19 years old. He ran through the corn fields, his tall and sculpted body stumbling as he tried to catch up with the pretty girl who glided through the field. one-shot, Peeta-centric.


**a/n:** ok, so just a little drabble :)

**disclaimer:** I do not own the Hunger Games.

the first part was found on tumblr, i don't know who it was by, it never said.

* * *

_When a Boy Met a Girl_

_a boy met a girl _

_and he loved her _

_more than_

_moonlight _

_and the starry sky_

_more than changing seasons _

_or college sweaters_

_more than _

_polaroids and postcards _

_old typewriters _

_or record players _

_concert tickets _

_and the text he _

_highlighted in his favourite novels _

_he had come to love _

_everything she was_

_and every he _

_had made her into _

_his heart swelled _

_as the days passed by _

_he was so full of love _

_for her and hope _

_that he forgot to do _

_what so many forgot to do _

_he forgot to leave room _

_to love himself. _

* * *

01. **Moonlight and Starry Skies** :

there was a small head, a blonde one to be exact, running through the field of corn, he must have been less than 9 years old. He was an adventurous boy, his name, Peeta, sounding like it came from an old novel that someone loved a little too much.

He ran through the corn fields, only his small body able to run and play in it and not get the corn damaged. He played from just after noon, until the moon was visible in the dark sky. By that time, he would have scratches all over his arms and legs, his golden hair sticky with sweat, and his muscles tired and ready to flop into bed. (but not without a shower his mother would always make him have).  
His father knew why he played in the corn field and got scratches and sweaty because of it. Mr. Mellark and his son didn't have a lot in common, but they both loved the moon. The way it shone in the dark, and the way the stars would speckle they sky with their tiny little lights. He thought that his son wouldn't love anything more than the sigh of the sun and then the moon breaking it's way through the golden light.

But, of course, Mr. Mellark didn't know this to be true. Because one other thing they shared in common, was a big heart. He knew that he would find a girl one day, and love her even more than the moon and the starry sky. he knew that he would give them up to her, to prove whatever he needed to.  
And Mr. Mellark would never have it any other way.

02. **Changing Seasons and College Sweaters** :  
The boy was older now, maybe 12 or 13; and he couldn't play in the corn field anymore. He still lied in the field of grass though, to watch the sigh of the sun and then the moon break through it's golden light.

It was the turn of Spring that day, the leaves were going start changing their colours from bright green to a jewel-toned red and orange. He didn't know that he would have new neighbors that day. It wasn't until the next year that he actually met them. By that time, he was 14 and he liked to wear those college sweaters to keep him warm. (and he's never admit it, but it made him look grown-up.)  
It was another Spring day, his favorite season drawing to a close; that's when he saw her. She was in the passenger seat of a old, beaten up red truck. The one driving had to be 16 or 17 at the most. They closely resembled each other, with their dark brown hair and warm pale blue eyes. (at least, Peeta thought they were blue.) They were dancing as much as they could in the truck, and judging by the movement of their mouths, they were singing. The window pulled down, and her voice floated across the wooden fence and into his ears. It was so pure, so melodic and probably the most beautiful thing he's ever heard.  
He recalled all the sounds that he knew to be home; the oven timer's loud _ding, _the rumble of heavy footsteps pounding down the stairs, the quiet and content humming of his father in the morning.

Her voice trumped them all.

O3. **Polaroids and Postcards** :  
The next few days were strange. He'd found himself wanting to know more about her, her name, her age, what she liked.

He was fourteen, and he knew it wasn't love.

Love happened when you were older, when you knew who you were.

Peeta had no idea who he was. Someone had asked him that once, in a school assignment. He drew a blank that day. _Was there anyone who knew who they were at fourteen years old? _he thought. _No_, he decided. No-one his age knew who they were.

He decided the next day that the wall beside his bed was a little too bare for his liking. He rummaged through an old shoebox that was previously home to a pair of sneakers. A few polaroid pictures and various post-cards from relatives he loved fell from the box and floated down to the floor. He positively adored those pictures, marveling in the perfection of a few of them.

Shuffling to the floor, he eyed the post-card from his aunt that he recieved in the mail last summer. Reading the words 'I love you' in his dead aunt's handwriting, he taped the post-card to the wall; along with the squared pictures from his polaroid camera.

The post-card was taped and framed and started the entire wall with the caption's _'I love you' _under the framed card in his neat writing.

Sitting back on his haunches, he smiled. He was proud of his wall that day.

The next time his father walked into his son's room to say good-night, he spotted the post-card from his long gone little sister. He loved his son a little more than he already did that day.

04. **Old Typewriters and Record Players** :

It was official. His taste in music was alarming. He loved the static sound of old record players, totally unlike the sharp and perfect sounds of singers these days. When his brother asked him why he liked the sound of people singing live better than the studio version, his answer was simple.

"Because they're real."

And the voices that sang behind the faint static noise and skips were real. He didn't listen to the song on that old trumpet looking thing; no, he wasn't that strange. But his quirks were noticable.

Like, the fact he liked typewriters.

And there was nothing wrong with typewriters! He thought it was cool to see the ink go onto the parchment like that. And he liked the fact you couldn't delete what you already typed.

He got very careful in what letters he clicked and what words he said.

After all, in life, there was no _'delete' _key.

05. **Concert Tickets and His Favorite Novels :**

It was official. The strange phase of his fifteen year old record player songs were put to rest. _Slightly_. He still liked the music, he was still fond of it, but he found a newer band to look up to.

He loved this one, the lyrics touching his soft heart and making smile and belt out the words terribly off tune in his truck.

He was sixteen now, and going back to school for the year. He liked to read as well, a new past-time he found to be enjoyable. He loved the thought of escaping reality, if just for one moment. He often got lost in the words of the books, leaving his room and going off an adventure to kill demons or become a dauntless rebel.

He highlighted the text and his favorite passages, reading them over just to live in the moment once again. He would read beside his wall, where the framed card still hung proudly. Or sometimes, when it was warm and not too bright out, he would read by the corn-field where he spent his childhood getting scratches and burns of the husks and leaves.

One passage, one caption was always highlighted in every single book.

_I love you. _

.

And that was where he met her, really and truly. He was at a book-shop, picking up a copy of _'the Fault in our Stars' _to add to his evergrowing collection when he stumbled upon her form. She was bundled up in a thick college sweater, one given to her by a brother, _or maybe a boyfriend_, Peeta thought bitterly. She was clutching a book in her long fingers, her eyes scanning the words and expression clear in her pale blue eyes. He noticed it was a copy of one of his favourite book series.

"That's a good book," he blurted out. The girl looked up, her slightly tousled braid slung over her shoulder. His cheeks reddened.

"I like the theme," he mumbled, sitting down on another chair directly in front of the girl.

She smiled warmly.

"You like slaying demons with a _seraph_ blade and engraving runes with a stele into your skin?" the girl chuckled.

His heart jumped. He knew was no stranger to romance, it was an often theme in the books he read. And he acquired his first girlfriend at fifteen and broke it off when they realized it was going nowhere.

It hurt, to see her leave. But he was filled with a new hope, for both her and himself; wishing that they could both find someone who made them happy.

He and the girl bonded over the hours they spent at the quaint little bookstore.

She introduced herself as Katniss, and revealed that the sweater belonged to an older, and happily married best friend.

He smiled.

He asked her out on a date nervously after the third week of talking together.

Katniss nodded and blushed, putting the book down for a mug of hot chocolate Peeta made himself.

Years passed, and their love only grew stronger.

He added countless polaroid pictures of her on his wall, replacing some of the old ones. He didn't take the framed post-card though, but he did hang a picture of her next to it, with his favorite caption 'I love you' in his neat writing underneath it.

She borrowed endless sweaters that he grew out of, but he smiled when he saw her form drowned in his clothing. They spent nights gazing at the stars while he stared at her eyes, where he quickly learned were a stormy gray-not the pale blue he thought they were so long ago.

He got her into those old records he loved, and she got him into another endless book series. They shared warm, sticky nights together and quiet, love filled mornings.

So, at the end of this story, there was a head. A blonde one to be exact, running throught the field of corn. He must have been less than 19 years old. He was an adventurous boy, his name, Peeta, sounding like it came from an old novel someone loved a little too much.

He ran through the corn fields, his tall and sculpted body stumbling through the field as he tried to catch up with the pretty girl who glided through the field easily.

When he caught up, he twirled her around and lifted her off her feet. They laughed, and the old, graying form of Mr. Mellark watched his youngest son fall in love.

He set her down, and they looked at each other.

They shared a kiss in the month where summer was turning into fall.

He loved her so much, loved what she had become, and what he had shared with her.

In fact, he loved her so much, he forgot to leave room to love himself.

(but in the end, it was okay. she loved him too much for her own good.)


End file.
